


how soft your fields so green

by Darnaguen



Series: of how we calmed the tides of war [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Drabble, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12643143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darnaguen/pseuds/Darnaguen
Summary: Another snippet of the Viking AU, this one closer to the beginning of the story.





	how soft your fields so green

_gro, gro lisle spire_   
_dager gryr og mørket svinner_   
_sól har snudd_   
_og hjulet det har venda_   
  


–-

“My lady! You have a guest!” The serving girl curtsied deep and then scurried back to her tasks.

She sighed and stood, shrugging on her cloak and patting her hair quickly to make sure her braids were passably presentable. 

“Hrei,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s Hrei.” 

It was useless, though, she knew. The girl would only curtsy and say “Of course, my lady!”. Like always.  _I used to be you._

*

It was a wet, grey morning: the sun was a pale ghost behind the heavy-hanging clouds and water dripped from the roof into deep puddles on the corners of the longhouse. The fallows beyond the stone fence were still brown, but she sensed the green was not far as she stepped outside onto the porch and blinked in the daylight.

“Good morning,” her guest called, striding across the courtyard. When he reached the longhouse he lowered his hood, shaking out his damp, dark hair with a smile 

“Fóthraðr,” she said by way of greeting, frowning slightly and crossing her arms.

“Jarl Hreiðunn.” The warrior bowed his head respectfully. She all but rolled her eyes and scoffed.  _At least he doesn’t call me ‘Princess’. Or ‘my lady’._

“Finn!” she called out instead and her bannerman came jogging the short distance from where he was chopping firewood, his face lighting up into a grin.

“Fó!” 

The vigor of his embrace nearly jostled the newcomer into a puddle of slush. Fóthraðr, in turn, grabbed Finn’s head between his hands and cheerfully knocked his forehead with his own. 

“Good to see you, brother,” Finn laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just about to ask him the same,” Hrei grinned and lifted the hems of her undyed wool dress before stepping down into the muddy slush.  _I wish I wore breeches today._

_*_

“I come bearing good news from Ribe,”  Fóthraðr explained as he fell into step beside her. 

She walked over to the steaming firepit in the middle of the yard and sat on a log, leaning over to poke life into the embers with a stick. He sat opposite her and rested his forearms on his knees.  _He’s always so at ease._

“The repairs are finished,” he said, searching her face through the drifting smoke. “ _Fálki_  is ready to set sail.”

She drew a deep, shuddering breath and kept her eyes on the flickering embers. She still sensed the shift in his expression.

“We’ll find him,” he said quietly, reassuringly. “I’m sure of it.”

“I know,” she said, then quickly lifted her gaze. “Wait. What do you mean ‘ _we’ll_  find him’?”

He had the good sense to look slightly sheepish but quickly recovered. “I’m coming with you,” he said evenly. “Me and few of my most trusted warriors. In fact, we took the liberty of sailing her here up the coast. She’s on the drydock in case you want to make any last-minute changes.”

She glanced over her shoulder to where Finn stood a few steps away, ever her loyal shadow. 

“Did you know about this?” But she already knew the answer when he shrugged. “Not the full extent of it, or the exact schedule. But… yes, Hrei. I did.”

She tossed a pine cone into the fire and watched it explode into embers with a satisfying crackle.  _I should feel betrayed. But I don’t._

“You’re my aunt’s bannerman,” she began wearily, gesturing towards Fóthraðr with her half-burned stick. “The leader of her strongest war band. I can’t take you away from her for… Allfather knows how long. You know I can’t.”

“Hrei…” He chuckled, perhaps at his own boldness – because whatever else he might be, Fóthraðr was never condescending. Not with her, not with anyone. 

“Do you seriously think I would do this without the Queen’s approval?” he continued gently. “She  _insisted_.”

\--


End file.
